


The Guardians in the Shadows

by appending_fic



Series: Who Watches the Watchmen Themselves? [2]
Category: Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons), Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Christmas Presents, Easter, Feels, Gen, Superheroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 03:42:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/819557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/appending_fic/pseuds/appending_fic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or 'Seven Times the Justice League became aware of the Guardians'</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Guardians in the Shadows

“Do you ever get the feeling you’re being watched?”

“Mayan syndicates have partnered with the Motion Picture Association of America to create a world-wide network of closed circuit televisions to learn how to create a more addictive popcorn flavor for unknown purposes. Likely to be sinister.”

Superman looked around the table, and briefly wished he’d asked when the Question wasn’t present. No one else seemed particularly interested, though. Batman would’ve been interested, but primarily in order to determine if there was an invisible threat.

Superman didn’t think it was like that. Ever since he’d come into the powers granted to him by the yellow sun, he’d felt...a sort of attention focused on him. At night, usually, but at other times, as well. Whatever it was, it was skyward, and had never made any overt action.

He’d joked once to Lois it felt like the Man in the Moon was keeping an eye on him. Sometimes he wondered if that was exactly it, the eternal watcher looking down on humanity’s protectors.

Or maybe keeping an eye on the super-powered alien. He’d considered asking J’onn a few times, but there were limits to the things the Justice League would believe (even if that line was pushed a little further every week).

He...became used to the feeling, and feeling a little comforted by it. Anything that didn’t want something from him, that didn’t want to kill him, was a couple of steps above most people he knew.

Still, sometimes he wondered what exactly was watching him from above.

\---

“Did everything go well, Diana?”

Diana paused, halfway to seating herself, to consider her answer to Bruce’s question. Certainly, she’d won, but the circumstances...

She knew they all kept little secrets from one another, things they didn’t think the others would understand, or believe. And this...she didn’t think Bruce needed to know it.

“Yes. No problems.”

That much was true. A villain who called himself the Tooth Fairy had stolen baby teeth from under the pillows of children all through an entire city, and had gathered them together to do...terrible things. She shuddered at the thought of the magic he had drawn upon, ancient stuff, older than the world, than the gods of Olympus.

It hadn’t been that hard to beat him, but it had left Diana with a conundrum, of what to do with the teeth. Destroying them felt wrong, somehow, but she couldn’t leave them, and she doubted Bruce would appreciate a repository of teeth in the Tower.

And even considering that, what would stop some other sorcerer from trying something similar, or worse? Knowing about this, how could Diana stand by and expose the children of the world to the danger?

And then they had come. Something like hummingbirds, moving too fast for Diana to see them properly. They had spread out, grabbing the teeth before taking to the sky. Diana had snatched one from the air, trying to see-

It was like a cross between a hummingbird and a woman, not that different from Hawkgirl except for the size-

Diana had laughed, letting go of the little fairy, which gave her an annoyed buzz before taking to the air again.

She felt, somehow, whoever was receiving the teeth from these little fairies would keep them safe.

Here and now, she glanced at Bruce, and shook her head. He didn’t need to hear about this. Tell him about the real Tooth Fairy, and he’d try to make sure she wasn’t a threat.

She wasn’t.

\---

Shayera stared at the box, as she had for the last ten minutes. It was wrapped in colorful paper, tied with a bow, and had a tag with her name on it.

She’d been on Earth long enough to know about Christmas, and they had a gift exchange on the day itself - or as close to it, as various crises allowed. But that was the gift exchange. That was at a set time, in public. This was...

She didn’t like the thought of things that could break in here. But exhausting the possibility of everything that could sneak in here and leave a present (a bomb? a mind control device? a beacon?), it left one of the other heroes.

At last, she decided that if it was going to kill her, it would have already, and reached out to tear open the box.

Inside was...

Shayera blinked back tears at the sight of the tiny carving of Solomon Grundy. The detail was amazing, the work of a true craftsman, and the statue itself, made of some light metal that didn’t even seem to hold the grease from her fingers. Even the painting of the figure showed exacting attention to detail.

She set the figure down, gently, and continued to stare at it. She didn’t think John had the skill for this, Batman wouldn’t engage in such sentimentality for anyone other than Diana, and that left...who?

Well, there was one person who would give unsolicited gifts on Christmas, but Shayera was neither a child, human, or, for that matter, particularly good. She had betrayed two worlds, killed one of the men closest to her heart-

And had been left a memento of him.

She reached out and stroked the figurine.

Well, maybe it _had_ been Santa Claus.

\---

John Stewart woke from vivid dreams of...horses? Unicorns, he amended, as he remembered the horns on the prancing creatures. As he mulled on the images, the thought of creating steeds with the ring preoccupied him. It seemed it might be more efficient than pure flight; if he created a pegasus, it might even be able to fly without the necessity of fighting against gravity.

Sometimes, not often, John had dreams that wove their way into his waking life. Not like Doctor Destiny, thank goodness, but...thoughts that went with him, encouraging bursts of creativity.

Like his own muse, he thought sardonically. He wasn’t usually that romantic, but it seemed an appropriate word. He’d asked other Lanterns about the dreams, but none of them had ever had such common bursts of imagination. So it seemed someone was looking out for him, trying to make him into a better Lantern.

And you couldn’t be a suspicious bastard all the time, or you went the way of Batman, or, God forbid, the Question. So John tried not to look that gift horse in the mouth, to just go with it.

And sometimes, he had some really good ideas.

\---

Sometimes Wally thought he could see the shadow of fear passing over people. He moved so fast, saw so fast, he could sometimes see things other people didn’t. And when supervillains threatened the world, Wally could see shadows passing over their faces. It was then that he joked and distracted them more than usual, trying to dispel the shadows.

But he knew that sometimes those shadows lingered. Around such people, he sometimes saw a flash of movement, like a tall, pale man bending over their shoulders, whispering in their ear. He’d never been able to catch more than a glimpse, or lay a hand on the man, but it haunted him.

Someone out there seemed to thrive on fear, and no one - not Bats, not Diana, not even the Question - seemed to know anything about him. So Wally tried harder, tried to spread the laughter a little further, trying to create a spark against the shadow he saw across the faces of those who felt fear.

Sometimes he almost felt it was working. Sometimes he despaired it wasn’t.

But, well, he kept on going. It was what they did.

\---

It was the dead of winter, and J’onn had gone to investigate reports of some sort of monster hunting people in a small Canadian town. He’d tracked the thing to its lair, only to find...

Blood smeared across the snow, the creature wounded and dying.

J’onn paused and scanned the dying mind, and caught sight of an image in its thoughts, a child as pale as death, coated with ice and wielding the power of winter against it. There was a mind nearby, and a name.

“Jack Frost. Are you here?”

There was a brief chill across J’onn’s cheek, and then a thought. Surprise, shock.

‘Can he see me?’

“I cannot see you, but I know you are here. I can hear your thoughts, and the image captured in this creature’s mind. Why are you here, Jack?”

Distaste, uncertainty, pride. ‘I killed it.’

“I am well aware. But why, Jack?”

‘It hurt people. Kids.’ Defensiveness, wariness. ‘They were scared.’

“Jack. I am a member of an organization. A league. We protect the world from threats against which there is no other defense. We sought this creature for the same reason you did. I wonder if you might wish-”

Amusement. Laughter. Bitterness? ‘Strut around like your big red boy scout? Got too many things to do. Besides, no one can see me, hear me, touch me-’ Cold passed through J’onn, and he shivered, not from the cold, but for the knowledge one had passed through him. ‘You can keep your league. But...’ Hesitance. Uncertainty. Vulnerability. ‘If you see the Flash, can you tell him he’s been a real...never mind.’

The wind picked up, and the mental presence departed. J’onn stayed long enough to ensure the monstrous thing was truly dead, and then returned to headquarters, puzzling over the existence of the child, of the power he wielded. He decided not to tell the others. Jack seemed harmless, and seemed interested in protecting people. He was a kindred spirit, even if he would distance himself from the League.

Such selflessness should be allowed to flourish, whatever its manifestation.

\---

Batman had been waiting here for hours, ever since dusk. He’d been worried about stories he’d been hearing. Gotham had not been a place for fanciful notions like spirits - or, those who believed in such things were rarely benevolent. But kids had been talking. Whispers of the Tooth Fairy, the Sandman, Santa Claus-

The Easter Bunny.

Bruce hadn’t really believed in such things as a child. Even before - before, Gotham had been so shadowed, it was hard to believe Santa was anything other than his parents fighting back against the darkness with a little mystery.

There. A flash of movement through the trees. Silently, Batman descended, and trailed the form as it darted between trees. Officially, the Wayne Foundation funded the annual Easter egg hunt, but last year, his accountants concluded more eggs had been collected than had been purchased.

So.

The work of a madman, laying some plot with his duplicate eggs? Probably.

He managed a quiet pass, close to the figure, and wished he’d planned a longer look. Because...a rabbit, taller than the average human male, walking on two legs, and carrying a basket?

The creature’s ears twitched, swiveled, and Batman cursed in his head. He threw a Batarang-

The rabbit drew a painted boomerang and deflected the projectile with a flick of his hand, and then released the boomerang.

Batman ducked under the retaliation and sprinted in, cursing his loss of surprise.

Something heavy landed on him, sending him falling to the ground, and he heard a thump and rustle. “Now what was that for, mate?”

Australian? Batman scrambled to his feet and looked up. The rabbit - or kangaroo - or whatever - was watching him from its perch. It sounded male, and still had a basket of eggs.

“I don’t know what your plan is,” Batman growled, “but I’m going to stop it.”

“Plan?” The rabbit looked at the basket of eggs and then back at Batman. “I’m a bunny, mate. I hop around and leave little googies for the ankle-biters. So they can have a happy Easter. Not fancy like your bat-costume gig, but it seems to work.”

Batman scowled. “You honestly expect me to believe you’re the actual Easter Bunny?”

“Three days ago, you saved the world from the actual god of war,” the rabbit replied, sounding a little peevish. “If he exists, why can’t the Easter Bunny?” It paused, cocking its head at Batman. “Would it help if I pointed out I’m technically an alien?”

“No.”

The rabbit shrugged. “Worth a shot.” He crouched down, still fixed on Batman. “Look. You don’t want to get into this with me. We’re on the same side, mate.”

“Really.”

“Fair dinkum. It’s all for the kiddies, right? Making sure there’s hope and happiness. Making sure no one has to go through the same loss we did.”

There were precious few in the world who knew the loss that drove Bruce Wayne to become Batman, but...if the rabbit were the Easter Bunny, Bruce considered, he’d be expected to know more than ordinary creatures. And...for all that the thing’s motivation brought echoes of Batman the Justice Lord, what had it been doing? Helping bolster kids’ enjoyment of Easter?

“Look. I don’t necessarily trust you. But...I’ll leave you alone for now.”

The rabbit shrugged. “Fair enough. And you won’t get in my way Good Saturday?”

“No.” The rabbit turned, ready to hop on his way. “Make sure you hit the Narrows.”

“What?” The rabbit turned its head, ears flicked out in surprise.

“The kids there aren’t the sort that can afford to get out to the Wayne Foundation egg hunt. Make sure they’ve got something to look forward to.”

The rabbit grinned at Batman. “No worries, mate.” And then it was gone.

Batman sighed and then moved to continue his rounds. Quite a surprise, he thought, finding out the Easter Bunny was real. Luckily, he still had his contingency plans. If the rabbit, or any of his friends, turned out to be threats...he’d be ready.

But there was the hope that the Justice League had found new allies, other people fighting for the sake of the world’s future.

Hope. What they were all fighting for.


End file.
